Ain’t No Snitch
I had been sitting in that awful cold room for hours and my skin became wrapped in goosebumps. My stomach was empty, too. I thought to myself that it was just some kind of tactic they were using to get me to talk, to say something I shouldn’t say. The mind can make the mouth say a lot of untoward things when you’re tired. But I wasn’t going to say shit. I thought I could just play it cool and eventually, I’d make it out of there. I’d been in trouble with the law a couple of time before so I knew just to keep my mouth shut. Nothing new. I wasn’t afraid. When the police dragged me into that interrogation room, I didn’t answer any of their questions. They pressed hard, real hard. But I wasn’t giving them anything. Just some smoke and standard “I want my lawyer” line. I had no intention of playing ball with those guys. When they realized they couldn’t get anything, they left me alone, and I knew it was only a matter of time before I was back out on the streets.
Truth of the matter says I should have never been picked up in the first place. Had things gone as plan, had the operation ran smoothly, then I wouldn’t have been sitting there with icicles forming on my ass. But there is one small, inconvenient detail about plans. No matter how try, you can’t plan for stupidity. The best designed plans will go to the toilet if an ounce of stupidity interferes. That’s what I told Big Lou, or at least that’s what I tried to tell him, anyway. You can’t really tell him something flat out, you have to suggest it. So, I tried to hint to Big Lou that I could do that job myself and I didn’t need a partner. But he refused to hear me out. And he sent June Boy along with me.
Now, nothing against June Boy, but again, you can’t plan for stupidity. I’ve never been the smartest man in any room, but damn if June Boy wasn’t the dumbest man in every room. It was so bad I actually worried for the guy. I felt real concern. It amazed me how he ever managed to survive the streets. I knew Big Lou had a temper and wasn’t going to be too happy about June Boy’s fuck up, so that really bothered me. Then, I remembered that his fuck up was the reason I was sitting in cold storage and then I thought to hell with him anyway.
The door opened and some of the cold air rushed out of the room. In walked two suits, one almost a foot taller than the other. They weren’t the same guys who had interrogated me hours before. The shorter of the two had dark hair and a pencil thin mustache; the other one had red hair and carried himself with the sturdiness of a Tennessee Walker. The redhead sauntered over to the corner of the room and stood there while the shorter one sat in the chair across the table from me. He carried a briefcase and he opened it and pulled out a manila folder. He rifled through it and then looked at me. The gaze he turned on me seemed to be made of metal and I was a little uneasy. I eased back in my chair, but he kept that steel gleam in his eyes on me before turning his attention back to the folder. He finally closed it and placed it back in the briefcase next to him on the table.
“Ronald Anthony Clark, Jr.,” he said. “Better known as R.J.”
“And who might you be?” I said.
“Agent Lane,“he said. He gestured to red over in the corner. “That’s Agent Andrews.”
“Agent? Like F.B.I. agents?”
“Now there’s a bright lad. Yes, as in F.B.I.”
I had heard rumors that the feds were trying to catch Big Lou, but they weren’t smart enough to do it. He always gave off the appearance of a simple man, but Big Lou knew how to get information that he needed to stay free. Whether it was from a crooked cop who was unsatisfied with his pay, or a sleazy politician who needed a little extra campaign cash (as well as votes), Big Lou knew how to wheel and deal and make sure his operations, for the most part, went off without a hitch.
“F.B.I. down here for me, huh? I must be special.”
“Not quite,” Lane said. “You’re just the lucky one who got caught.”
“Lucky, you say?” I scoffed at him. “If that’s what you want to call luck...so what are you here for?”
“What happened this evening, huh?”
“You have the report. Why don’t you read it?”
“I want to hear it from you. Maybe they left something out. Maybe you have some additional information that occurred to you while you were in here cooling off.”
“Man, I’ll tell you the same thing I told those other pigs: I want my lawyer.”
Lane smirked at me and folded his hands on the table. I noticed his knuckles were rough, brittle, and his pinky finger on his left hand was slightly crooked.
“Son, we want to offer you something that’s better than a lawyer.”
“What’s that? Two lawyers? A get out of jail free pass?”
Lane ran his fingers through his hair, but he wasn’t rattled. He was cool, confident, and he wore a small smirk that suggested he knew every word I was going to say. But still, I felt no reason to make this easy for him.
“Not quite,” he said. “You’ll probably do some time, just not so much.”
“Now how is that any better than the lawyer?”
“Perhaps, it isn’t. But I’m guessing the lawyer isn’t going to offer you this.”
“Not interested.”
“You haven’t heard it yet.”
“Don’t need to. You’re wasting time. I’ll be out of here and back on the streets within a few hours.”
“Positive about that, are you?”
“I am.”
Lane chuckled as though he knew yet another secret. “You shouldn’t be,” he said.
“And why not?”
” Because that’s not what’s going to happen. Not this time. If the prosecutor plays his cards right, you may never be seen or heard from again.”
I thought it was my turn to laugh so I did.
“Man, what are you talking about? Do you even know what you’re talking about?”
“I believe I do.”
“Well, let me tell you, “I said, “you don’t. You have no idea what you’re talking about. Listen to this: they ain’t got nothing on me.”
“Hmm.” Lane’s eyes scanned the table in front of him as if he were counting pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.
“So let’s start at the beginning,” Lane said. “There’s a drug bust -”
“I wasn’t even there - ”
“A shooting - ”
“I didn’t see it - ”
“A boy lying out at Christian Northeast - ”
“You’re making that up.”
“A slug in his chest, and a couple of gunshot wounds to his arm and neck. Now, we can’t positively identify you as the man who pulled the trigger - ”
“Because I didn’t!”
” - But we do have positive identification that you were one of the guys at the scene. Contrary to what you’ve claimed.”
“Bull shit!”
“Now you may think that’s bull shit, and yet, here you sit. If you think it’s bull shit, keep your trap shut and wait. If you think it’s bull shit, sit there long enough until you’re before a judge facing attempted murder, assault with a deadly weapon, illegal possession, and hell son, we haven’t gotten to the drug charges. Now, to you, all of that might be bull shit now, but just wait until you’re the only one behind bars for this. Then. You tell me what’s bull shit.”
As he trained his eyes on me, I looked away and saw Andrews with an empty expression on his face. He had said nothing up until that time and it bothered me. Quiet people always made me nervous. You never knew what they were capable of doing.
"Man, what is this about? What do you guys want?" I had grown exasperated.
"This isn't about so much what we want although we have needs to. For now, just focus on what you want."
"Simple. I want out of here."
"Good, because that's just what we've come to do for you. Get you out of here."
"How?"
Lane's smirk expanded across his face and he eased back into his chair.
"Now isn't that the question you should've asked five minutes ago?" he said. "We're going to offer you a deal. A smart man would take it. You think you're smart?"
"Try me."
"I aim to." He paused for what I assumed was a melodramatic affect. "As I'm sure you're aware, we're not here after you. We want Big Lou. We're asking you to give him to us."
I opened my mouth to say something, but Lane held up his hand so I let him continue.
"We set it up where you go back out on the streets today. Don't worry about the logistics of it or of that botched drug deal from earlier. We can take care of that. You help us gather information to take Big Lou down, and once it's all over, you're a free man."
I didn't wait to give my answer.
"I'm going to have to pass. But thanks, though."
"You turned that down so quickly. Why?"
"Because I ain't no snitch."
Lane threw his head back and faked a heavy, hearty laugh.
"Ahh, yes. I almost forgot. You crooks do pretend to have some sort of moral code or other. Andrews, I always find it humorous when these guys pretend to have values."
Andrews just stood there and said nothing. His stone focus was still on us at the table, but he hadn't moved an inch since he got to that corner. He barely blinked. I looked away from him and turned back to Lane.
"You don't fool me, bruh."
"Fool you? Do you think we're down here to fool you? I'm offering you the best chance to get out. Not just out of here, but out of this mess of a lifestyle you've created for yourself."
"I don't know where you got that from, but my lifestyle isn't a mess. So who told you I wanted out? See you think you know a lot, and maybe you do. But you don't know everything. I have a pretty good thing going."
I started to feel drained and I wanted to flee that room, go hide in some dark alley for a few days. I had refused his offer to snitch on the crew, and yet I still felt as though I had betrayed the gang.
"I don't know what you think it is you owe these guys you run with. I don't know what you think you owe Big Lou. But believe me, if Big Lou were faced with this decision, guess what he'd choose?"
"Man, you're just making that up."
"Ha! That's what you think. See, you don't understand, son. There's no loyalty out there. You think there's some code, but there isn't one. One rule: self-preservation. Keeping yourself alive, keeping yourself free. And if that means squealing, just about anybody would do it. Except maybe a fool who believes in something that doesn't exist."
My head began to hurt and I refused to look him in the eyes.
"Self-preservation," Lane continued. "Andrews. That's a strong phase, don't you think?"
He looked back at Andrews, but still the red head said nothing.
"What's up with him?" I asked. "Doesn't he talk? Or is this some type of good cop, bad cop performance y'all pull?"
"Don't you worry about him," Lane said. " You just think about what you want."
"I want out of here."
"We're trying to give you that."
"No, what you're trying to do is have me wind up missing. How would you even protect me? Huh? I do this and rat on Big Lou, you can't even guarantee I'll be alive long enough to see him brought down."
"We'd protect you. Is that what you're worried about? We'd do everything we could to keep you safe. Now, granted, we can't go out there and hold your hand on the streets, but we'd keep you alive."
"You sound so sure as though it would be easy."
"I didn't say it would be easy, but...you have to think of the opportunity we're going to offer you. We're going to offer you the chance to live. And not end up like Raj."
Suddenly, it all became timeless, and the air was loud, filled with a hard sound that pounded my ears. The room began to swirl with images, shifting all around us, running along the walls. My shoulders became pressed, weighed down, and my stomach was hollow.
"Tell us about Raj," Lane said. His eyes were intense, demanding, clamoring to draw something out of me. I felt like sinking into a shadow.
"What about him?" I asked. I wanted my composure, but it was gone. I suddenly felt abandoned.
"You were friends, weren't you?"
"How do you know that?"
"Grew up together. Lived in the same neighborhood. Ran together all the time. I know more than you think I do. Were you there that night when he was killed?"
"Yeah, I was there. I saw him."
"I read he was shot in the back. They shot him eight times. What was that like? To see your friend lying there?"
I didn't answer. I couldn't answer. I just needed him to leave.
"Who called you and told you he was dead? How long did it take you to arrive to the scene?"
I still refused to answer. Lane sighed.
"This is a waste, Andrews,"he said. "You offer people a way out, a better way than what they're currently doing. Lost."
"Lost?" I said. "You don't even know the half of it, man."
"Well, fill me in. You have the floor. Say something meaningful within these next five minutes so that I can know you're a man, and not just some boy who manages to halfway pull on his pants."
Some small part of me didn't want what was coming next. I knew once those words were out there, I'd never get them back.
"I was there. I was there before he was killed." I stopped to gather my breath and to prevent any tears from coming.
"Earlier that evening Raj had me drop him off over at some girl's house. She lived over there on Frost. I took him and we said I'd be back in about a few hours. So I leave and start cruising around for a bit. I start to get hungry so I look for a place to eat. This is about 45 minutes after I drop him off. I get a text. It's from Raj."
I came to a halt and had to take a deep breath. Those images were still on the wall, but they changed from colors to more vivid pictures.
"What did they text message say?" Lane asked.
"He wanted me to come pick him up. So I head on back over there. But I stop at a gas station. It's about a ten minute walk from the girl's house so I tell him to meet me over there. I go in, grab a quick bite, and come back out. I wait for Raj in the car in the parking lot. Next thing I see is Raj..."
Those images on the wall became so clear and it was Raj. It was him, and it was that night he was killed all over again. I tried to hold it back, but one tear began to fall down my face. Followed by another. And another.
"Raj is running. I had never seen him run so fast. He was running into the lot. And behind him was a car. The car stopped and the doors opened. Two guys jumped out and pulled out their guns. And started shooting."
"What did you do?"
I closed my eyes to shield myself from what happened next. But I couldn't hide from it. I saw it in my head just as clearly as I ever did.
"I panicked." I stumbled across the words. "The car was already running and...I pulled out of the lot as fast as I could. I left him there. I didn't want to look back. But I glanced in the mirror and I saw him laying on the ground. The guys stood over him. They shot him. It seemed like they kept on shooting forever. Shot after shot. I sped off and hid a few blocks away. I must've sat ther 20, 30 minutes before going back to the gas station. And when I got there, there he was. Dead."
After that, I didn't feel the need to pretend to be a hard ass anymore. The tears were streaking down my face at that point, and I lowered my head into my chest. I closed my eyes again, and sobbed. The images of that night surrounded me. They had surrounded me everyday since Raj was killed. My best friend. I could see it over and over again. Those mental pictures raged and raged in my head like a frenzied storm. I had never confessed that to anyone. I kept it to myself.
At that moment, I remembered Raj's mother. We all went over to visit her a few days after she had passed. Everyone gathered in their front yard and along the porch. Raj's mother sat on the steps of the porch sobbing. Big Lou tried to offer her some condolences, but she shrugged him away. Raj lived with his mother and siblings in what could best be described as a two-room shack with a moldy basement. Big Lou reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of cash. He extended it to her and told her it was for his Raj's funeral and burial expenses. She looked at Big Lou and what he held in his hand. I had known her for a lot of years. She was a small woman. Raj's mother stood up and looked Big Lou square before spitting right in the palm of his hand on that wad of cash. She then went back inside.
I thought of my own mother who was sick. She struggled to take care of us. I thought working for Big Lou would bring in more money and help ease that struggle. But she hated it. She hated Big Lou. She hated when the police had knocked on our door late at night because I had been arrested for shoplifting. I made her disappointed.
Papers rustled and I opened my eyes to see Lane close his briefcase. He stood up and motioned for Andrews to follow him. They headed towards the door. Just as Lane began to open it...
"Wait," I said.
They both stopped and looked back at me. I wiped my face and took a deep breath. I looked Lane square in his eye, man to man.
"What is it that you want me to do?"